


In One's Honour

by Sociopathbrony



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Boredom, F/M, Gen, I just like designing characters, Tumblr Prompt, strong female character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sociopathbrony/pseuds/Sociopathbrony
Summary: Victor of Vic's Varied Smithy falls for the first pretty person who's decent towards him in this tough town of unwelcoming locals.





	In One's Honour

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: http://dialouge-prompts.tumblr.com/post/166229722162/hes-making-fun-of-her-again-and-no-one-is-doing

The door’s bell rang at the front of the small shop. Finally, a customer! Visitors were few and far between, let alone anyone who actually bought anything. No surprise with the abundance of several other smithies that sold that same his with more existent reputations attached, some probably going back generations. Himself? He'd been here all of a year and seemingly still considered an outsider. Might as well try to get this person on his side.

“Hello, welcome to  _ Vic's Varied Smithy _ .” He said, pushing the leather door-alternative to the back room aside. A blond curly-haired woman with moderately pale skin, kind of the colour of high-purity copper, looked up from perusing the shelves of knuckles. By her manner she was clearly a local. “Anything I can help you with?”

Her eyes arched just barely in shock. “You speak Mehkan?” 

He made his way closer to inspect his products alongside. “I didn't know that's what it was called here, but yeah. When your surrounded by a language for a year you tend to pick it up.” he spoke lightly, jovially, trying not to offend. It had certainly helped that a local had taken pity on him and taught him some of the more allusive words; good friend, he was.

“Huh, I never saw this place. I tend to avoid the travellers.” She turned back to perusing.

“What brings you here then? I'd love to believe it's just for my beautiful knuckles but alas I'm well aware other places have the same.” He smiled and she chuckled a little before clearing her throat to respond.

“Mostly you're just closest to the bar. Convenient for a quick stop if a girl's expecting trouble.” She picked up a set with skulls in the dips between the rings and a skeletur bat in the palm. “Do you have this one in that metal?” she gestured with her head as she tried it on, seemingly pleased.

“The hematite? Sure, I can cast one. Shouldn't take longer than a few hours.” The knuckles were replaced back on the shelf and she nodded. “I just have a special order slip I need you to fill out.” Finally someone who didn't despise him, hopefully.

“Just put me down as whatever. I can be by tomorrow then?” she held out a hand. 

He took it and beamed in response. “By all means, see you tomorrow!” 

She waved walking out the door and he got to work, slipping into the backroom once more. The molds were already set up, always were, he just had to melt the hematite down which took up most of the time. His mind drifted as he tended the flames.

“Verdammit, I should’ve asked her name. Or I could've asked what bars are around” he mumbled to himself. It was often quiet in his little world. The locals weren't particularly friendly to new folk; didn't know loyalty like they did, he supposed.

Just a few hours later, steam was escaping through the wall vents as he held the new knuckles under in the basin. They were nearly done now, just some filing left. Little else intruded his thoughts. The task at hand was tedious, but far too important to concentrate on anything else. Polishing came next and for what seemed to be a nice lady, it would shine. It'd been nice to get to know her maybe. “Could ask about a drink tomorrow… but is that too soon?” he mumbled.

The cleaner-polish gave a terrible odor.  _ Spark stuff _ . Working wonders without care for practicality. The amonia it let off stung his eyes. He blinked harshly as he rubbed with the the cloth. “At least it's clearing up.” he just barely mouthed. A reflective black colour came through the soot coated surface, glinting the little light left in the room. “There.” Finally it was set down on the special order shelf to await the next day and he retired for the night. As he cast off he imagined what would happen tomorrow.

* * *

The door‘s bell rang and he stood attention at the exchange counter. She was frowning. Not even anger frowning, seemed to just be how her face rested mixed with a general distrust. She wasn't the same girl as yesterday. She glared into his eyes.

“How may I help you?” he spoke low and welcoming. Nk need to upset her further. 

“I'm here to pick up my friend's order.” It was a curt and cold response but caught his attention nonetheless.

“Oh, what happened? If it's not too intrusive.” She tilted her chin up and her face softened to a look of authority.

“A fight. Something  _ the knuckles _ could come in handy for.” She tried urging along.

“Right, so,” he started slowly with the sure disappointment, “I can't actually give special orders to anyone other than who made the request. I can put it on hold until she's better, but she didn't fill out a form with special instruction or an address. On the upside, since You gave me notice, I can keep it off the shelves past the three day frame until she can get it.”

She nodded, mouth taut in consideration. “Very well. Have a good day.” She left as suddenly as she came.

  


Well that was concerning. Of course it wasn't really any of his business, but  _ what happened _ ? His building train of worry halted when the door rang again. Travellers. And to think that just a year prior, he himself was considered a traveller of sorts. They weren't very common, he found, but good for new of outside the the walls. They jubbled about to look at the metal works, probably thinking he was a local. Well technically, but ask anyone else…

“See anything you like?” might as well try to make a sale.

Two of the group of three brought their choices up to the counter. The third seemed to have no intention of buying but oh well.

“Good choice of knife there,” he complimented the first. “Designed for balance and speed for those who know how to wield well.” He set it aside to pick up the other tool. “And a high frequency tuning fork. You all planning a trip through the wastelands or something?”

“Or something. We passed by its outskirts and still lost most of our tools to the extendo-neck owl wolves.”

“The what?” He'd never passe dthrough the wastelands himself but it seemed the Heterodyne collected well enough from them. He'd hear all about them in the market whenever new bits and pieces came in.

“Just a name we came up with. Don't rightly know what others call them. So where’re you from? Certainly don't sound from here with  _ that _ accent.” said the short haired brunette girl, the one wanting the knife. The other two, ginger at the counter and spiky darker haired brunette, took up interest in the conversation immediately.

“Yeah, I didn't think this let outsiders shack up” put in the ginger.

“Can't say I've particularly had the warmest welcome. Back home a little west from here, at least people checked out new places, even if they were sketchy.”

“Wait, the west? Like the Trottel area?” the girl was leaning so far on the counter she might as well have just climbed over.

“Well yeah, Trottel exactly, actually. But why-”

Her voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “Why in the  _ world _ would you join the people attacking your town, are you  _ mad _ ?” The air between them suddenly felt too thick. 

The question hadn't particularly occurred to him. Of course he knew why he moved, but the idea of it having been a bad thing to do just hadn't crossed his judgement.

“I didn't really want to be on the ‘raidee’ end of the raiding if I was going to open a business, I suppose. They had protection, I had skills, it seemed like a good trade?” He busied his hands writing up the purchase certificates and signing before shoving them across the counter. “That'll be the equivalent of 8 grams of gold.”

“I've only got this watch” the ginger seethed. The brunette that had been perusing i the background stood behind the two now. Their looks were seething too. He dangled the watch from it's chain to inspect it. It was less than 8 grams worth to an untrained eye, but the clocker would pay well. Those looked like some hidden hinges, and maybe a stuck pressure release.

“It'll do.” he gently settled it in a box behind the counter. The three of them swiped their purchases and the bell tinkled a goodbye. And he thought the locals didn't like him.


End file.
